Lady of the Morning
by Roofran411
Summary: This is the second of the Zen and Me Trilogy. Arianna, a lady of the night, meets Zen at the funeral of a dear friend.


Zen_ and Me: Arianna_

This is the second story in my Zen trilogy. As with the first, I have taken things from Michael Dibdin's books and from Andy Harries' films and used and changed them to suit my stories. This story comes chronologically after 'Story of an Affair' but is a complete stand alone story.

As always, I must say that Zen belongs to Michael Dibdin; I am only playing with him for a while.

In the films, the delightful Inspector Zen is played by the equally delightful Rufus Sewell and his partner in this story, Arianna, is sparklingly played by Valentina Cervi.

.

The song that accompanies this is 'Miss you Nights' sung by Cliff Richard.

Miss You Nights

Midnight diamonds stud my heaven

Southward burning, like the jewels that burn my place

And the warm winds that embrace me

Just as surely kissed your face.

Yeah! these miss you nights are the longest.

How I miss you, I'm not likely to tell

I'm a woman and cold day light

Buys the pride I'd rather sell.

All my secrets are a wasted affair.

You know them well.

Thinking of my going; how to cut the thread

And leave it all behind

Looking windward for my compass.

I take each day as it arrives

But these miss you nights are the longest.

Lay down all thoughts of your surrender

It's only me who's killing time.

Lay down all dreams and themes once remembered.  
>It's all the same, this miss you game.<p>

Yeah, these miss you nights are the longest.

* * *

><p><em><span>Lady of the Morning<span> _

"This is Arianna" I said, when the familiar voice came on the line.

Zen.

Aurelio Zen.

Detective Chief Inspector of the Questura di Roma.

I met him when he was investigating the death of Ruspanti.

Suicide, possibly murder, with the possibility of a scam, with maybe long tenuous links with the Vatican.

I loved Ruspanti; he was my friend, a very dear friend who, though he was gay, when he was still in denial, had occasionally been my lover. It was he who had helped me get started in my business.

And yeah, he might have moved with the highest, both in the Church and the State, after all he was _Prince_ Ludovico Ruspanti, but he still was a wheeler and dealer.

Of the most discreet, of course!

So, if there was a hint of a scam, well, it wasn't something I would put past him. I have known him to pull scams before now. Sometimes illegally. Very successfully too. But recently things hadn't been too good for him. He liked to live high and often needed money, and I was the only one left who would lend any to him. And there was something, something else. I don't know what.

_Me?_

I am Arianna di ... well, that is enough; that is what I go by. Age 32. 5ft 5 tall, slight, dark red hair, slanting hazel eyes and a wide, funny, pouty mouth, that I have been told looks as though it has been stung by a bee.

Ruspanti, with his soirees and parties, had introduced me to his network of society friends and acquaintances from whom I soon built a select clientele.

Yes, I am, to put it bluntly, a prostitute. A high class one maybe, but still a prostitute.

A courtesan, I hope, is a better job description. I do not just sell my body. I am an escort. I have good looks, intelligence and wit, I dress elegantly well. I give my company, my encouragement, my sympathy if needed. I am well educated and well read. I have a good knowledge of politics and world affairs. I have a good if sometimes dirty, sense of humour, and I am extremely good in bed.

I am also extremely expensive.

It was after Ruspanti's requiem mass, I met Zen.

He followed me out of the church and spoke to me. I thought he was a middle-aged man on the pick-up. My clients come to me highly recommended and, even more to the point, discreetly.

I do not need to pick up men.

I do not get picked up either.

I thought I had seen him before. Somewhere.

I brushed him off.

"I am a professional mourner" I said, and drove off.

I _thought_ I had brushed him off.

He merely followed me back to my apartment: he told me he was a policeman and he wanted to ask me a few questions about Ruspanti. I told him I had an appointment with a client, which was true, but we could talk while I changed.

My apartment consists of three rooms; a small kitchen, a large luxurious bathroom, and a very large open room with a bed and wardrobe at one end, a large expanse of polished wood floor between, and at the other, a couch and a pair of armchairs with a coffee table before them, and some interesting pieces of art. Good investments, I have been told. Sheer white curtains hang at the full length, folding glass doors which lead out onto a balcony which has two chairs and a table. It is not overlooked. The whole place looks and is expensive. It does not have much else in the way of furniture, but then few people come here. Ruspanti was one ... But he is dead now.

"What can I do for you, Inspector ...um... ?"

"Zen"

"That doesn't sound Italian."

"It's Venetian" he replied. "And yours?"

"Arianna."

I went to my wardrobe and took out some dresses.

"Ludovico Ruspanti, you knew him?"

He knew I did; why else would I have been at his funeral?

"He was umm... you and he...?"

I smiled; he was embarrassed.

"You mean were we doing it? Why didn't you say?"

"I suppose it was the way I was brought up. I find it... difficult to ..."

"You don't know anything about him Inspector, do you? _Prince_ Ruspanti! He was gay." He was surprised " Mmm, we had been lovers, now and then, in the beginning, when he didn't admit it, not even to himself. But we were friends. Always friends. He helped me get started in my business."

I turned my back and said "Could you?" indicating my zip. He slid it down a little, turned away and turned back to see me step out of my dress. I was wearing my working clothes. An couture shift dress with a zip from neck to hips for ease of getting out, which is what I did then. Just dropped it and stepped out.

Underneath was my working underwear, a small black lace bra and fishnet tights.

If you have to undress a couple of times a night, you can get through a lot of fine tights. Besides, men find fishnets alluring. I can never see why myself but there you go!

I was amused to see him turn his back again hurriedly. A _gentleman_ cop!

I hid a smile and decided to play a game with him.

"What is your business Miss ...?

"Arianna will do. I suppose you could call me an escort."

"You mean you are a...

"A lady of the night?" I smiled. "Yes; but I am available in the afternoons too, if required. And I prefer to call myself a courtesan."

While we were talking, I was trying to decide which dress to wear. Holding them up and raising my eyebrows in enquiry at him before trying them on, he zipping and unzipping me. He was still embarrassed, but that did not mean he was not enjoying it.

If I had been alone, I would probably have put on the first thing that came to hand but it was fun with playing him. A sort of cat and mouse game.

"This?"

"Yes, yes, very nice."

"Or this?"

"Yes, yes. "

Every time he thought he was off the hook, I took my dress off.

"You are very polite, Inspector."

His manner did not alter; he continued to be courteous, and persistent.

He wanted to know about Ruspanti. So I told him the truth.

Some of it.

Ruspanti had been short of money, had been very down. He had slept at my apartment the night he died.

"He was here that evening; we talked, he was very low. He slept on the couch; I slept in my bed. I woke during the night to go the bathroom but he was gone."

"Hmm," He nodded.

"He always said that if things got too much, there was always the Tiber."

"Well, he missed."

"What?"

"He missed the river and landed on the embankment."

I gave a wry smile, blinking a little to make sure my eyes didn't fill up.

"That's Ruspanti. Now Inspector, your time's up."

As I ushered him out, he said "What do you know about the Cabal?"

"What?"

"Forget it."

If I thought he was finished, I was wrong. He was back a couple of hours later.

At least, he was on my _cellullare_.

Somehow, he had got hold my number; I don't know how!

And I thought I had turned it off.

It was at the most inconvenient time, the Minister was just climaxing.

I told Zen not to ring again but he said he would be at my apartment in the morning. I disconnected and the Minister asked what was wrong. So I told him the fuzz were hassling me and he said he would handle it. After all, the Polizia is part of his Department.

Nevertheless, Zen arrived at my apartment before eight in the morning and leant on the bell until I answered it.

I was wearing a negligee.

Yes, it was negligible, very short, diaphanous and red, and only just tied around me. It wasn't that I was trying to seduce him. It was the first thing to hand when I fought through bleary eyes to find something to wear to answer the door. After all, I hadn't got home till after three.

He appeared not to notice.

He sat on the couch, leaning on his elbows, his hands between his knees.

"I don't think your friend committed suicide." he said. "There was a note but I think it is a fake."

"So what do you think ..." when it hit me what he meant. "Murder ...you think he was murdered?"

"Mmm"

"But ...he left a note..."

"Cctv footage shows a man behind him as he fell. We think he may have been pushed."

He was watching me.

"But ..."

"_But_" he quoted me. "Have you told us everything?"

"Well..."

He raised an eyebrow cynically and yet, and yet, there was laughter somewhere there.

He was laughing at me.

A cop with a sense of humour? Then it came to me! That smilingly cynical look.

I **had** seen him before!

A couple of weeks ago.

The Minister's apartment.

The entrance hall.

I had just arrived and was hustled unceremoniously into the cloakroom as the Minister himself showed two men out.

Two men.

Amadeo Colonna, that cold bastard, and yes, Zen.

He had that cynical smile on him then.

As if the world amused him.

I thought.

My mind was like a rat in a trap.

"Do you mind?" he asked, waving a pack of Nationalis at me.

Yes I did, but there didn't seem to be much point in saying so. He lit one and leant back, crossing his ankle over his knee.  
>Then he threw me!<p>

"Who's your friend at the Ministry? Colonna?" I avoided his eyes.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do. Somebody, Colonna, leaned on me this morning, telling me to stay away from you. Early this morning, very early! So it had to be after my call to you last night, and it had to be someone high up, very high up."

He drew on his cigarette, watching me through the spiral of smoke, his eyes narrowed, emerald glints.

Funny, when they were opened wide, they were olive, maybe grape green but when they were narrowed, when he was concentrating, they were emerald.

Oh! For God's sake Arianna, you have only met him twice. How could you know that?

"No..." he said thoughtfully, still watching me. "It's the Minister. Yeah, the Minister."

I caught my breath.

I looked down and didn't answer.

"You know Colonna too?"

"How did you know my number?"

He fished in the breast pocket of his jacket and held up a small brown card.

I knew what it was; one of my business cards. Arianna...Tel 039 324 34571, in red.

Nothing else. If you had one of my cards, you knew what my business was.

"Where did you get that?"

"What if I tell you Colonna gave it to me?"

"Bastard." I wasn't referring to Zen and he knew it. He tilted his head, a little smile on his lips.

"Now then Miss ..."

"Arianna. "

"Arianna, have you told me everything?"

There was a teasing note in his voice. I chewed my lips.

Ruspanti had told me years ago when I started in the business, "Don't tell the cops anything."

I suppose it didn't really matter now. Ruspanti was dead, I didn't care about Colonna, and I was beginning to like Zen.

"The suicide note, it isn't a fake."

"Oh I don't think so. Dead men don't push suicide notes under their own doors. "

"No! I did."He had been smiling but that stunned him. He rubbed his ear.

If I hadn't been so mixed up, I would have laughed.

"When I got up to go the bathroom that night, I told you he was gone but he had left a note on the table. It wasn't addressed to anyone, so I read it. I couldn't give it to the police, so I stuck it in an envelope, got dressed and went and pushed it under the door of his apartment."

"Why couldn't you give it to the police?"

I looked at him as if he were mad.

"The police would have been here! My name in the papers. My business is based on discretion."

"I ought to do you for obstruction."

He chewed his inner cheek. That was a habit of his, I noticed.

"Did you go in?"

"No, of course not. I haven't a key."

"The place was torn apart; the armchairs, couch, bed, the stuffing ripped out."

"But why? Who?"

He shrugged.

"A lover?"

"No, no, Ruspanti wouldn't make anyone want to do that? Everybody loved him even when he was pulling a scam."

"Then why?"

My turn to shrug.

"Do you know if he had a scam going on?"

"He _always_ had something."

"Do you recognise this" and he showed me a diary

"Well, it looks like his but I couldn't swear."

"What do you know about the Cabal?"

"You asked me that. I have never heard of it. What is it?"

"If I knew that, then maybe everything would fall into place."

"Well." He got up. "That's all for the moment."

I got up to go the door with him.

He raised his eyebrows, grinning. "People will think you're a lady of the morning too."

I was cool.

"This is my home, Inspector. I always sleep in my own bed! And I do _not_ bring my clients here."

He flipped his hand in a sort of acknowledgement, even apology.

As he reached the door, I made up my mind.

" Inspector! Zen!" He turned.

"Yes, I do know Amadeo; and yes, in the Biblical sense. He was a client until the Minister asked to be introduced. Then he dropped me."

If it sounded a bit bitter, it was. I wasn't in love with him but we had had some good times, not just sex; I had been his escort to parties, dinners, theatre.

It still stung.

He looked at me, surprised.

"Didn't it occur to you that maybe he was told to drop you?"

No, it hadn't.

"Why?"

"Even senior politicians don't like comparisons."

"I am a professional. I would not do that."

"Maybe not, but perhaps the Minister was concerned that you might. Maybe, the Minister's willy is smaller."

"I shall not comment on that."

"You have."

He was still chuckling as he shut the door.

.

Things were hectic over the next couple of days and I didn't have time to grieve for Ruspanti but I knew it would catch up with me sometime.

I had an appointment to see Guido Perotto, Ruspanti's lawyer, so I was up early. I had dressed in my Versace beige silk palazzo pants and matching top, with my face and hair done when the doorbell rang.

I was startled but I knew who it was. There was no-one else it could be.

Zen.

"What do you want now, Inspector?"

He looked me up and down and raised his eyebrows.

"You look very nice."

"Thank you. Now?"

"Going somewhere?"

"Yes!"

He came in and shut the door behind him.

"Oh? Where?"

"Is that a police question?"

"No, no, I thought, perhaps I could give you a lift, after we've had a few questions."

"That will not be necessary. I have my own car."

"Ah yes. I remember, an Alfa Romeo Spider...red. Very nice."

"Excuse me, Inspector. My breakfast." he nodded.

"Coffee? Cornetti?"

He was surprised but said, "Thank you, yes."

I went into the kitchen, put two cornettis into a basket and picked up two mugs and plates. I led the way out onto the balcony. A coffee pot

was already on the table. I poured two coffees and slapped his down in front of him.

" Er... um..."

"What do you want now?"

"Er ... Milk? ...and sugar and um ... jam?"

I stalked into my kitchen and then returning, slammed them down in front of him.

I don't know how people can eat so much sweet stuff _and _first thing in the morning too.

But he did; he ate his cornetti, and mine!

He got out his Nationalis and lit up.

"Just a few questions. What do you know about his finances?

"Not much.

"Where did he get his money from?"

"Family money but he was always short of money. Always."

"What did he spend his money on?"

"Inspector, everything and nothing. It went."

He was getting something out of his pocket.

"Do you know what this is?"

He put a small key on the table.

I looked at it

"It is a strong box key; a bank strong box. "

"Is it Ruspanti's?"

"They all look the same."

"True but we found it on him. Why would he want a strong box?"

I shrugged.

"Can you tell me which is Ruspanti's bank?"

"I can do more than that, Inspector. If that is Ruspanti's key, then I have the pair to it, and you need both to open the box."

"Christ! I have been trying to find out which bloody bank for the last two days. What is in the box? "

"That I don't know. I was with him to set it up but he never told me anything else."

"Have you finished? Can we go?"

Now _he_ was rushing _me_!

"I have an appointment with Ruspanti's lawyer at 9.30a.m."

"So I will take you there and we can go to the bank afterwards. Get your key and come on."

"I can go in my own car."

"I know that, but you will come in mine." It was said politely and he smiled charmingly at me but there was no doubt about it. I was going in his car.

Well, if I was, he could wait for me. I took my time in slipping on my Ferrogamo crocodile sling-backs, then my suit jacket, before finally picking up my bag.

As we were going downstairs, he said "Arianna, I think that Ruspanti was setting up an enormous scam involving maybe high-ups in the Vatican. I think the answer is in this box, I think that this is the answer to his murder."

"But Zen. I am sure he killed himself...the note..."

"Yes Yes, I know he did. I know, but... who was the man behind him on the bridge?"

.

He waited for me outside Ruspanti's lawyer's office.

When I was through, we drove to the bank. I looked sideways at him, he was tall and broad, with long legs, dark curly hair cropped quite short, and big green eyes. He had two scars on his face, a large one that cut through his left eyebrow, and a smaller one by his mouth. I wondered idly how he got them.

He was extremely handsome. In my experience, cops don't look like him.

O.K. I haven't had any professional experience with them. In fact, he is my only experience with them but commonsense tells me they don't look like him.

Another thing he smiled, no, he laughed a lot. He seemed to see the funny side of everything.

I looked again with my professional eye this time. I suppose he was about forty. fairly fit, not sixpack- fit but yes, ok. Large, beautiful hands, and his crotch looked comfortably well filled.

"What's your name?"

"Zen."

I tst-tsted exasperatedly.

"Aurelio."

"And is that what they call you?"

"You mean apart from bastard, swine, sod."

He was smiling. He really did have a nice smile. A naughty little boy, goofy one.

" Yes it is."

"Are you married?"

"Yes," he stopped. "separated...going through the motions of getting a divorce. "

The smile had disappeared.

"Girlfriend?"

"Yes, "he paused. "She's away."

He fumbled in the glove box and found his cigarettes and lit one from the dashboard.

"Probably not coming back."

I got out my sunglasses and I studied him from behind them and we drove in silence for a while.

He turned right and pulled in outside Ruspanti's bank.

When we opened the box, there was another box inside; nothing in that one, nothing, not even any dust.

I laughed. I mean really laughed for the first time in days. For the first time since Ruspanti died.

We sat outside in his car, Ruspanti's box on my lap.

"Well, what now?"

"Well, now we let it be known that we have the box and the keys and then we wait."

"What for?"

"For whoever killed Ruspanti to make himself known."

"Zen, Ruspanti killed himself."

"Yeah, yeah I know. Well ok, for whoever was behind him on the bridge. For whoever ripped his place apart. Because there _is_ someone. There _is_ something." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, whistling soundlessly through his teeth.

"Right! Home now?" he asked.

"Um, could you take me to Ruspanti's apartment? His lawyer wants it cleared. I'm his executor. He has asked me to look and see what needs to be done, as soon as I can. I can get a taxi afterwards.

You_ have _finished with it? The police?"

"Yeah, sure" he paused, thinking. "I might come in and have another look around. I might see something."

He turned sideways to look at me.

"Arianna, can I ask you something?"He hesitated. "Will you do something for me? Ruspanti was your friend?"

"I loved him."

"In your line of work, it is possible that sometimes you may see or hear something ... which might be useful to me."

"Are you asking me to be your snout?" I interrupted sharply. He inclined his head, a bit embarrassed and looked away.

I sighed and agreed.

I was saying something, as with Ruspanti's box tucked under one arm, I wrestled the key out of the door, and followed him into the living room of Ruspanti's flat. He answered me with something so ridiculous.

"Yes my mother would love that. Come anytime."

I looked at him astonished, and saw he had his finger to his mouth for silence.

I saw what he had seen; the balcony window was open. There was someone in the flat. He moved silently further into the room. Then, the someone came from behind us. It was Perotto, Ruspanti's lawyer and he had a gun in his hand. I was immediately a gibbering wreck and Zen didn't look too good either

"Where is it? what was in the strongbox. It is mine."

_I had told him in his office, that I was going to the bank to get the strongbox. _

"It's mine. I gave him the money. He needed it. I gave him mine." His voice was high, almost hysterical. Me too!

_He had asked me to clear Ruspanti's flat._

I was holding the box. Shaking, I held it out it to him.

"Put it on the bed."

_If it was a trap, he didn't know Zen would be with me._

_**I**__ didn't know Zen would be with me._

I sidled sideways and did what he asked.

He was a different man to the one I had seen in his office an hour ago.

He was greasy with sweat and maybe fear.

Not as much as me.

He was the one holding the gun.

"Give it to me! Give me the key."

"Yes" said Zen. "Give it to him, Arianna. "

I looked at him amazed  
>"I haven't got it. You had it!"<p>

"No I gave it to you."

"NO! You didn't."

"I did."

I caught on to what he was doing, he was distracting Perotto, so I went along with him.

"NO! You had it "

Then, so fast I hardly saw it, he kicked the gun out of Perotto's hand and across the room. Grabbing his wrist, twisting it, he pulled Perotto down on the bed, slapping hand cuffs on him. Then he pulled his own gun. I gasped. I didn't know he carried one. I suppose I should have known but I didn't, and you would never know from the cut of his suit.

One thing I was right about: he **is** fit, even fitter than I thought. The speed at which he moved stunned me.

Zen told him the box was empty; that it was all one of Ruspanti's scams.

"It couldn't be! I gave him my money. All my money! He said he could make us rich. We were going to make a life together. He loved me; I was his lover. I loved him. The Cabal would do it for us."

"What is the Cabal ?" Zen asked.

"I don't know," he sobbed ""I don't know; he never told me. He wouldn't explain. How could he do this to me? It was you, you little whore. I loved him but it was you, you little slut. Talking to him, telling him things. What am I going to do?" He sobbed again.

"Did you kill him?" He looked up, his face raw with tears.

"No, no. "

"But you were there on the bridge?"

"Yes, I saw him leave her flat. I was waiting outside. I followed him, caught up with him, tried to talk to him but he pulled away and then he was ...I ran to try to stop him. I was too late."

Zen walked across the room and picked up Perotto's gun, unloaded it and put the bullets in his pocket. He went back to Perotto and unlocked the handcuffs.

"What is the Cabal?" Zen asked again.

"I told you. I don't know. He said it was best I didn't know. Ludo, Ludo." His face was in his hands  
>"What am I going to do? I have nothing, nobody.."<p>

"I have to arrest you. You must accompany me to the Questura."He spoke very gently to him.

"My money, my law practice. I am ruined."

Zen turned to me. "I will have to take him in. Will you be OK to wait here for a while? Better for you here than at the Questura. I will handle everything."

I nodded.

He touched my shoulder. "Sure? I will pick you and take you home as soon as I can."

We heard a shout from the street and turned. He had gone. He had jumped from the balcony. Zen tried to hold me back but I had seen him...his body.

Zen held me. I was shaking against him.

.

He rang me a day or so late; they had wound Ruspanti's case up.

"Suicide."

I waited but he said nothing more.  
>"What about that...um... what was it? Cabal?"<p>

"They decided that it was all part of Ruspanti's scam and we should forget it."

I have known a lot of men. There was something in his voice. The powers above him might think that, but he didn't.

So it was wrapped up, Ruspanti's case. It was eleven days since he died and just eight since I met Zen at his funeral.

All wrapped up.

Prince Ludovico Ruspanti. R.I.P.

.

The crematorium rang.

"Why me?"

"You are the executor of his will. There is no-one else."

"But what do I do with them?"

The man at the other end was non-plussed.

"Keep them or scatter them."

I sat and let my mind jitter around and then I picked up my phone and rang him.

"This is Arianna." I said when the familiar voice answered the phone.

"And what can I do for you, Arianna?" The laughter was there in his voice.

I took a breath.

"The crematorium rang. Ruspanti... Ruspanti's remains are ready for collection."

I couldn't go on. How could I? I was choked.

Then he said "You want me to come with you?"

"Would you?"

"Of course. When?"

"They said today, tomorrow."

"What are you going to do with them?"

"I don't know."

"Let me see... Um...um. Today is awkward ...Tomorrow? Tomorrow afternoon. Shall I pick you up about"

"Today," I interrupted and my voice broke. "Today please, if you can."

There was a pause.

"Hold on a moment,"

There was muffled talk, then he was back

"Yes, ok. Shall I pick you up about two? At your apartment?"

He was there at 2p.m, prompt, dapper, elegant, but then he always was.

"Thank you for coming with me, there was no-one else. I couldn't do it on my own."

He shook his head slowly, pursing his lips.

"It's nothing."

We drove out of the city in silence and then I said "I been thinking; the river, the Tiber. He always said... if he did ... where he ..."

He nodded, "Yes, good idea."

"There are no regulations to stop me?"

"None that I know of and if there are ..." a little smile "I'll bend them."

.

We stood on the bridge where Ruspanti had stood. I scattered them and as the ashes floated down, a barge came from under the bridge and they settled in a fine mist over its cargo.

"It wasn't meant to be." Zen said, with his little boy grin.

"Best laid plans ... That's Ruspanti."

When we arrived back at my flat, I said "Come in, have a coffee, glass of wine?"

My mind was saying stay; I needed company. I did not want to be alone.

We sat on my balcony with our coffees and his cigarettes and let the evening pass. Sometimes in silence, sometimes with spurts of conversation with little flickers of laughter, easing the ache.

We had a limoncello or three and the blue of the evening deepened.

At last he gathered his cigarettes and lighter and stood. "I had better be on my way."

I got up fast, almost turning over my chair.

"Don't go," my voice was gravelly. "Stay! Stay with me."

He opened his mouth in surprise.

"I don't think so." he said slowly.

"You don't find me attractive?"

"On the contrary, I find you very attractive."

"Then stay."

" Arianna, I think you are out of my league."

" You know I didn't mean that. I'm not touting for business."

"I don't think it's a very good idea."  
>"I am very discreet, ask your Minister, ask Amadeo."<p>

He gave a small smile, refusing.

"Please, please."I placed my hand on his chest. "Please Zen! I don't think I could bear to be alone tonight."

He looked down at me, chewing his inner cheek, his green eyes flickering over my face. He nodded slowly.

I took his hand and led him inside.

He stopped, a comical expression on his face  
>"Condoms! Christ, I haven't got any condoms." I smiled a little smile. There is something rather nice about an unattached man who doesn't carry condoms.<p>

"You are talking to a professional, Zen."

Smiling I went to my wardrobe. On the shelf were several commercial-sized packs, tubes of lube, and other assorted things, tools of my trade. I grabbed a handful from the first open box and took him on towards the bed. I threw them on the bed and turned my back, gesturing to him to unzip me. He put his Nationalis and lighter on the night table and did just that.

I waited till he unhooked my bra and dropped them both on the floor, then rolled down my pantyhose and slid into bed, pulling the sheet up to my chest and lay propped on my elbow, watching him as he undid his tie and took off his shirt.

He was undoing his belt when he saw the condoms and exclaimed, "Five! Five, Jesus! Arianna, I hope you are not going to be disappointed."

He was naked now and No! I didn't think I was going to be disappointed. He was broad shouldered with narrow hips and his personal equipment, surrounded by a mass of black curls , was pretty good; his balls hung full and heavy; and his cock was ...well, I have had clients with longer; I have had clients with thicker, but not at the same time. It was already erect.

No help required from me!

He sat on the edge of the bed. He was chewing his cheek again.

Arianna" he stopped. "They say, I've been told, um, ladies ...of your profession ...do not kiss?"

"No, working ladies do not. But I am not working."

I pulled his head closer, my hand on his neck just under that little curl that rested on the nape.

His lips touched mine, those finely sculptured lips. I moistened mine, then his with the tip of my tongue and his slid into my mouth, exploring, finding my tongue, taking it into his mouth. He tasted of cigarettes and limoncello and him.

We kissed slowly and I began to feel like a teenage girl with her first boy.

He moved to get in with me and paused.

"Condom "he said, and opened a pack.

"Do you need any help?" I said.

He turned, winking at me.

"I can do it. I'm a big boy now."

"I can see that." I giggled and watched him. "Very competent."

He took me in his arms and suddenly, I wasn't laughing. I said, "Do it for me, Zen. I do it for my clients. Do it for me tonight."

He said nothing but touched my face, then kissed me again.

Long and slow and gently.

And I began to forget about everything, about Ruspanti, death, men with guns, empty flats, being lonely.

I could feel the warmth of his body against mine, his arms holding me, his hips pressed against mine.

I am good at sex, I love it, I love my job and I am good at it because I love it. I enjoy it but it has been a while since I felt like this.

Oh God! The desire swept through me and a shudder went through him.

He turned me onto my back and gathering my hands in his, held them to his mouth, kissed them and put them around his neck.

His hands moved down to my breast a slow smooth movement. He went on kissing me as he stroked caressed and kneaded my breasts. They are not big, but they are firm and the nipples are large, he ran his fingertips over them and found them hard and waiting. The sensation was exquisite. His body was hard and warm against me and pressed into my belly. He played with my nipples rubbing, rolling and pinching them gently. Bending his head, he took one in his mouth licking sucking first one, then the other. We turned till I was on him, then I lay on my front and he kissed all over my back lapping up my spine, behind my ears.

Turning again, our thighs intertwining with each other, my hands holding his face, in his hair, touching his ears. His hand moved over my breast down over my belly, his finger circling my navel, down again till his hand was on my mound pressing squeezing. I was gasping out little sounds. His fingers opened my lips and slid into my wetness,spreading it over me, over his fingers till one was on my clit I gave a shuddering gasp of pleasure. "There?" he whispered against my ear. I nodded and he went on.

I was making little mewling sounds that became please, please, and he slid into me, the thrusts making waves of intensity.

He left me, to do it again

He was saying something or was he only gasping with pleasure too.

He left me again and his hands and mine demanding so much more. He came into me again and we came together; we lay clutching each other in a slick of sweat.

"Was that good for you?"

I laughed, little bubbles of laughs.

"You know it was!"

He slid off me and we lay side by side, little laughs still coming.

It was dark now and I could only see the faint gleam of him next to me.

"That triple score trick? That is worth knowing; take it from me. Where did you learn it?"

I knew he had been smiling; until I asked that. The smile went. I waited.

"My wife," he said. "_She_ was a lady of the afternoon; on a strictly amateur basis, of course. Or at least, my friends never told me they had to pay."

There was a hint of bitterness underlying the lightness of the words. I was thinking about that as I drifted off to sleep.

.

When I woke, my head was resting on his chest, my hand on his midriff. He was still, with one hand behind his head but I knew he was awake. Nobody sleeps like that.

I let my hand trace the fine line of hairs that led to his crotch and he turned to wrap his arms around me and the delight began again.

The laughter, the fun,

"Where are the rest of the condoms?"

"They were on the bed."

"They must have fallen on the floor."

I stretched across him to grope on the floor but we were nearer the edge than I thought. I almost fell off. I gave a little giggling scream and he held me, almost falling himself. He was even fitter than I thought, his stomach muscles tautening to pull us back. The laughter nearly tipped us over again.

I was the one who put the condom on him this time.

You are very naughty." he murmured.

"So I've been told. Do you think that is a good thing or bad?"

"Oohhh!" He blew a long considering breath.

"Ohhh, bad, very bad."

He ran his fingernail down my spine

"I think you are quite high up in those stakes yourself, Inspector"

"Me? I'm an ordinary sort of bloke."

Oh Yeah? I thought, and I'm the Queen of Sheba.

I thought again; didn't she have that fling with Solomon and wasn't _he_ a crafty old sod too.

I giggled to myself.

Another thought. I have laughed more in the last few days then I have for, oh! I don't know how long.

.

The early morning sun was filling the room with a golden light when I woke. I put out my hand but I already knew he wasn't there. I thought he had gone, till I saw the lift of the gauze curtains at the open balcony doors and smelt the cigarette smoke as it drifted in. I tied my negligee around me and went out to him. He was dressed, collar and tie fastened, jacket on, leaning one shoulder against the dividing wall, cigarette in one hand, a mug of coffee in the other.

"Going?" I asked.

"Not without saying Goodbye." He held out his coffee, offering it to me. I refused it. I leaned with my hip against the balustrade and watched him finish it and put the mug on the table.

"Will I see you again?"

"Sure, if, you know "he trailed off.

"You know that's not what I meant. "

He said nothing for a moment and then dropped his cigarette on the floor and stubbed it out.

"I don't think it would be very wise."

"No?"

"Arianna, I am a serving police officer."

I looked at him. In spite of being up half the night and needing a shave and a fresh shirt, he still looked incredibly beautiful.

"No regrets?"

"How could there be?"

I studied my toes with their crimson nails.

"It was pretty damn good."

"Yeah." he said.

"_I_'ve one regret though,"

He looked down at me.  
>"I never gave you a blow job."<p>

His eyes and his mouth made three big shocked circles in his face.

"Though it's not too late."

I leaned forward and cupped his crotch, rubbing it gently.

"The spirit indeed is unwilling but the flesh is up for it. In more ways than one." I misquoted.

I gurgled with laughter as he caught my hand and moved smartly out of reach.

He held my hand for a moment and kissed the inside of my wrist.

"You are a nice man, Zen."

He smiled at me and gave me a little salute.

"Ciao."

I turned away. My eyes were prickling. I listened to his footsteps on the wooden floor, and I heard the click of the apartment door.

Is this what it is like?

Being a Lady of the Morning?

Watching your man drink his breakfast coffee, smoke his first cigarette, leave for work?

Would I like it?

Perhaps.

Who knows?

It seemed an eternity but could only have been minutes because I heard the chirruping of a cell phone and looking down over the balcony, I saw him answer it as he crossed the road to his car. He lit a cigarette before he opened the door and got in.

I watched as the car started and slowly moved off.

"Ciao, Zen" I said softly.


End file.
